


Together

by Moit



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, implied character death (all off-screen)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly AU. Occurs DIRECTLY after the attack at Herrington High. Stan was in the locker room with Casey and Zeke -- he was never taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of H/C, heavy on the C, which I think nearly everyone could use right now.

When they got back to Zeke’s house that night, all Zeke could do was hold Casey to tightly, while Stan stood by pacing and chain-smoking Zeke’s cloves.

“Zeke, we’re fine. He’s fine,” Stan said, even as he took another drag and held the smoke in for a minute.

Zeke finally released Casey and Stan could see tear tracks on his cheeks, which Zeke hastily wiped away with his dirty shirtsleeve. They hadn’t even changed yet. And Casey was covered in the . . . goo from the Queen. As this realization sank in, Zeke began pulling blindly at Casey’s button-down, ripping buttons and scattering them across the wooden floor in his haste.

“Zeke—what—what are you doing?” Casey asked, covering Zeke’s shaking hands with his smaller, steadier ones.

“You smell like Her. You’ve covered in Her. You need a shower,” Zeke replied, sounding nearly hysterical.

“We all do,” Stan replied, snuffing out his third? fourth? cigarette. He headed towards the bathroom, not checking to see if Zeke and Casey were following. He peeled his clothes off, wincing at the ache in his muscles. The smell was horrible – blood and gore and sweat and who knew what else. Their clothes would have to be burnt. He stepped into the shower and hissed at the feeling of the hot water on his cuts.

Zeke came through the open door a moment later, Casey in tow. They both seemed to be in the same daze as Stan. He watched as Zeke pulled at the remainder of Casey’s shirt and tossed it in the pile with Stan’s clothes. The boy’s body was a mottle of bruises and cuts, which made Stan want to simultaneously hold him to soothe the pain away and destroy every single person at that school who ever touched Casey.

Zeke sank to his knees, starting on Casey’s belt. He pulled it free and Casey’s jeans skipped a few inches down his hips, revealing plaid boxers almost the same color as his ruined shirt. Those came down as well as the jeans, Casey placing a hand on Zeke’s shoulder to steady himself as he stepped out of the ruined clothing.

Zeke guided Casey gently into the shower, and Stan wrapped his arms around Casey’s shaking body, pulling him under the hot spray. Zeke undressed himself in record time, the three shirts he was prone to wearing coming off in one wet lump. He stepped into the shower and slid the door shut, enveloping the three of them in a sauna of warmth and comfort. They held Casey from either side, just standing there, thankful to be alive, thankful that the three of them were still together, still in one piece.

It wasn’t until the hot water began to run out that Zeke and Stan seemed to regain a measure of sanity. Stan took up the shampoo to lather Casey’s hair, while Zeke started soaping a washcloth to remove the grime from Casey’s body. Casey just stood there and allowed them to care for him. He lifted a foot and tilted his head when he was asked. Mostly, he just enjoyed the attention.

When Casey was done, he and Zeke washed Stan with gentle fingers, and then Stan and Casey to Zeke. Clean, they stepped out of the (now cold) shower together. Zeke grabbed three towels from the cabinet and set two on the sink. He dried Casey first, then Stan, before wrapping them in the towels. He wrapped a towel around his own waist and led Stan and Casey into his bedroom, where he doled out sweatpants and t-shirts. The sweatpants fit Stan well enough – he and Zeke weren’t too different in height, but Casey was practically swimming in them.

“You need a fucking growth spurt, kiddo,” Zeke said, kneeling down to roll the sweatpants up for Casey.

“Now say that about my cock,” Casey replied as Zeke stood up.

Stan coughed out a laugh and smiled for the first time since returning to Zeke’s house. “He’s got you there, man.”

Zeke sighed, as though in disbelief, and pulled Casey to him in another hug. “I love you,” he sighed into Casey’s hair. He propped his chin on the top of Casey’s head and looked over at Stan. “Both of you.”

Casey sighed, nuzzling the fabric of Zeke’s t-shirt. “Love you guys.”

Stan nodded and turned around to fumble in the side drawer. He emerged triumphantly with a joint in one hand and a lighter in the other. “I knew I left this in here the other night!” he said, lifting it to his lips and flicking the lighter.

“Come on,” Zeke said, giving Casey one last kiss and pushing him towards the bed.

Casey climbed up on the mattress, settling down in the middle, where he normally slept. Stan sat down next to him and passed the joint as Zeke settled on Casey’s other side. Casey sucked on the joint, feeling the sweet smoke fill his lungs like a spirit that was chasing out the demons. He passed the joint to Zeke and felt Stan’s hand creeping over his stomach. He shifted himself so that his head was in Stan’s lap, and settled his legs across Zeke’s lap. They sat silently, enjoying each other’s presence as they passed the joint back and forth until it burnt Stan’s fingers and he dropped it in the ashtray beside the bed. Stan slid farther down the bed and Casey rolled over so that he was draped half-over Stan’s body. Zeke lay down as well, spooning up behind Casey, tucking him tight between his lovers.

When Casey woke the next morning, he found that both Stan and Zeke had rolled away from him in the night. Zeke had thrown off the t-shirt and kicked the blankets away some time in the night. Conversely, Stan was tucked in to the blankets and tightly as he could get. Casey felt his heart swell with affection for them. He turned his face into the pillow that smelled like Zeke, enjoying the early-morning haze around his mind. And then it all came crashing back to him, only this time it was like a horror movie in reverse.

_Smoking pot . . . their shower together . . . stumbling into the house . . . the hysterical drive home . . . running out of the school . . . collecting Zeke and Stan from the locker room . . . sticking a pen in the Queen’s eye . . . running . . . fear . . . losing Stokely to Them . . . losing Delilah . . ._

Casey’s brain slammed to a stop as he realized the part that he was missing. As they skidded out of the school parking lot (Zeke driving Stan’s car since he’d crashed the GTO), Stan had pointed out that there was nobody in the football stadium. They’d brushed it aside at the time in effort to get home, but in the relative safety of Zeke’s bed, Casey’s mind accepted the reality. They were dead. Well, not dead, really, but gone. They had to have turned to dust when the Queen died, just like she did. Just like Principal Drake.

“They’re gone,” Casey said, sitting straight up.

“G’back t’sleep, Case,” Zeke mumbled, reaching out a hand to pat Casey’s arm sleepily a couple times.

But Casey just shook his head. “Zeke, they’re gone.” He looked down at Zeke, who looked up at him with the lidded brown eye that wasn’t buried in the pillow. “They’re all gone.”

“They’ll b’gone in th’ morn’n. G’back t’sleep,” Zeke replied, pulling Casey down against him.

Casey gave up and cuddled against Zeke’s warm body. He always gave off heat like a furnace. After a minute, Casey felt him take a deep breath.

“Who’s gone?” he asked, sounding more awake. “Stan?” he asked, reaching across Casey to pat Stan’s hip.

“Hmm?” Stan mumbled.

“Naw, we’re good, Stan’s here.”

“Zeke, no. Not Stan, everyone else. They’re all gone. Everyone in town.”

This got Stan’s attention. He lifted himself up on an elbow and stared at the back of Casey’s head. “They really are, aren’t they?”

Casey rolled over so that he could see Stan. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Stan covered the foot of space between them and wrapped his arms around Casey’s body, holding him tight as the boy finally broke down.

Zeke woke fully now. “For fuck’s sake, you two,” he chided gently, wrapping an arm around them both. “We’re together. We’re safe. That’s all that matters. Casey, did your parents ever care about you more than we did?”

Casey lifted his head. Stan’s heart broke at the sight of his puffy red eyes. “No,” Casey sniffed.

“Stan?”

Stan just shook his head.

“And my parents sure as hell don’t give a fuck about me dead or alive. So it ain’t the end of the world.” Zeke paused, realizing what he’d just said. “Okay, well, even if it is the end of the Herrington, it isn’t the end of us.”

“I like that,” Casey whispered.

Zeke leaned down and kissed the top of his head affectionately. “We’ll get through this, kiddo, I promise.”

“As long as we’re together,” Stan amended.

“You guys would never leave me,” Casey added, reaching out to lace his fingers through Zeke’s.

And Casey was right. The world could (and had) crash down around them, and they’d be okay. Because they were together. Life goes on after tragedy.


End file.
